TMNT Advent Calendar
by BloodyAlexy
Summary: 25 days until the turtles' fifteenth Christmas. Fanfictions and fanficlets I write for TMNT Advent Calendar event. It will not include any type of romance, but I can't promise about using foul words. I decided to make them all based on 2012 Cartoon. [FAILED]
1. December 1st, Snowing

Put Michelangelo aside, turtles rarely had sleep; and when they did, it was preferably daytime for humans. The turtle lair was silent that morning, with his population with five mutants sleeping peacefully. Sleep time was usually around 4 PM, but the master had allowed them to sleep as much as they wished today, since they had been training without any rest in the past two days.

Although their sensei had let them have some shut-eye, the day had different plans for the teenage brothers. Around 9 AM in the morning, right when the green team was deep in sleep enough to dream, an annoying hooter repeatedly rang through the walls.

As ninjas in training for more than fifteen years, the turtles were quick to get on their feet with their weapons ready to attack. Of course, right after they got up from the floor which they fell from their bunks though.

"What the shell is going on here?" Raphael asked, shouting to make his voice heard through the loud beeps.

"It's the security system! It's alarming!" Donatello shouted as he ran to his lab with others behind his back.

"Thanks for enlightening us, genius, because I thought all this beeping and winking red lights were a party invitation for a second there!" Raphael wasn't happy that his sleep was interrupted, but when was he actually happy anyways?

Donatello didn't reply, instead, he quickly went into his lab with his brothers. His fingers instantly landed on one of the computers in his lab, typing commands in computer language which only he amongst the ones in the room understood rapidly. Soon, the screen was split in several windows, each showing different spots of the sewer; some were normal visuals but some had strange colorings, like the ones that were heat-sensitive.

"No threat is in sight…" Donatello mumbled, but no one was able to hear him through the noise.

His fingers made another set of movements, and now, there were different diagrams in sight.

"There is nothing threatening," Donatello shouted. "It's just that some wires are frozen. I can fix it easily."

"That's great Don, but can't you do anything about the hooting first?" Leonardo shouted in his brother's earhole.

"Oh, right." More keys were pressed, and thankfully the auditory torture was gone.

"Donnie…" Michelangelo started sheepishly, apparently there was something he was going to say; but before he could finish his sentence, his body hit the ground. Hard.

Leonardo took his asleep brother in his arms. "Can you fix it now? Even few hours without a security system can be dangerous, especially when we are all sleeping."

Donatello wasn't happy about this, but he had logic and he was aware of the possible threats. "Sure, Leo."

"Cover yourself a bit. It must be really cold out there if even the wires are frozen."

"And don't make a slightest noise when you come back, or else I will stab my sais in your skull." Raphael _really_ wasn't happy that his sleep was interrupted.

Donatello sent him a neutral glare. "I am a ninja too, remember?" He stepped towards the living room, grabbing April's coat thrown on the sofa after he realized it was there; he wished to go back to his sleep as soon as possible and he didn't want to lose time by looking for something thick amongst the clothes that the turtles used to camouflage between humans at nights. Besides, he wouldn't refuse some of April's unique, wonderful scent to be around him.

(…)

The turtles were _really_ unlucky about sleep that day.

As soon as they were back in dreamland, all their senses got alerted by a loud call.

"GUYS! COME QUICK! NOW!"

"DONNIE!" Three turtles exclaimed simultaneously before they all started running through the tunnels of the sewer.

"Don-" Leonardo started as soon as he took a corner, but as soon as his brother was in sight, his eyes reflected confusion, followed by annoyance.

No one could expect the aggressive brother not to get angry when even the calmest one was annoyed. "Donatello, you freaked the shell out of us, because you got scared by _sky above_?" Raphael scowled at the mutant who had been eyeing topside through a manhole with wide eyes, probably since before his brothers even arrived.

"If being completely amazed by the nature's calculable but beautiful glory, then I must be a teenage mutant ninja chicken." Donatello sounded different than usual. His voice was languishing, and he really sounded amazed.

Raphael rolled his eyes. "You have serious problems if a girl's coat on your shoulders gets you this stoned." He approached his tallest brother.

Then he realized what Donatello might me talking about. From the manhole, a fascicle of dim sunlight fell on the horizontal space which included the ladder Donatello was on; it made the rays look like a natural spotlight. Holding a stair tight with both hands, the tall mutant was leaning backwards; his face was turned towards upside, the source of the light. Making an ironic view, the snow was falling down through the manhole; and although they weren't spotted from afar because of the light, snowflakes was easily seen closely.

The scene could be as beautiful as the fake ones on magazines, if the girl coat Donatello was wearing wasn't ruining it.

Raphael pushed his brother aside, causing him to fall from the ladder and took his previous spot.

"Hey!" Donatello yelled from the bottom, but if Raphael had cared, he wouldn't have pushed him at the first place.

The scene outside looked like it was from one of the default screensavers installed in Raphael's laptop which Donatello had rebuilt for him last year. Some of the sun rays had managed to escape through a small hole between some clouds and reached to the manhole which the turtles were currently under. However, sun wasn't strong enough to stop snow in the air from falling or melt the snow on the ground. White flakes were floating in the sky without being bothered by wind, and it was silent on the street, due to lack of humans on it. Probably most of them were in their warm houses, sleeping or having breakfast. After what he and his brothers went through during the last two and a half months, Raphael could never reconcile the words "street" and "peaceful", but that was what street currently looked like.

Raphael didn't like peace, but it _was_ beautiful at the moment. And for plus, the scene had potential for something more exciting too.

"Let me see, let me see!" Raphael felt an annoying head pushing him aside by his shoulder; but the owner of the head didn't intend to make him fall down but get a piece of view too. The expression "Woah…" escaped from Michelangelo's lips as sky blue orbs moved to observe.

"I know, right?" Donatello who had just got up had placed himself behind Raphael's back. "It's possible, but not often for the sun and snow to reach a balance like this. Sun isn't sharp enough to melt the snow, because New York gets sunrays with the least angle of whole year in this time of-"

"Shut up, braniac. Where are you graduated from, The Great College of Joy-Killers?"

Raphael's comment was replied with an angry glare.

"It looks nice, indeed," Leonardo's head was next to Donatello's and right behind Michelangelo's; he didn't seem to need a reason to hide his amazement too. "It looks like one of Splinter's tableaus, but there is snow instead of sakura here… and street wasn't this messed, and there were more trees…"

"We got it, Leo," Raphael said before he reached out a hand to get some snow to squeeze. He threw it right into Donatello's face, and although the smartshell was too close for the shot to be effective, he still seemed annoyed.

"HEY!" Donatello exclaimed for the second time in last three minutes. But before he could react, Raphael was already out, standing on the asphalt above with a snowball jumped by his palm.

"This is a call for snowball fight!" Raphael threw the white matter to a wall to show off.

Without a visible hesitation, Michelangelo jumped out of the manhole, instantly squeezing and throwing it at Raphael. The short-tempered turtle was caught off-guard, which filled him with a hot challenging mood, causing the snow fight to escalate quickly.

"Guys," Leonardo tried to say. "Master Splinter-" But when a snowball accidentally hit his face, his reflexes instantly forgot the rule of not going upside and his body automatically jumped out. "You're going to pay for this, Mikey!" he shouted, getting some snow as well.

Even the teenager instincts for fun wasn't enough for Donatello, another snowball definitely was to join his brothers.


	2. December 2nd, Candy Canes

Last Halloween for teenage turtles was simply awesome. Not only because it was their first Halloween topside, also because they were able to roam streets without having to hide, even though it was much more crowded than it usually was at nights. Every human with a normal level of sanity had thought they were in really good costumes, and Michelangelo was happy for being able to talk to humans without getting screams or disgusted faces.

But interaction with topside population wasn't his favorite part of Halloween. Yes, it was huge amount of candy they got. As if it was a welcome for turtles who are experiencing Halloween for the first time, they had nearly got half of the candies in the neighborhood.

After all, they got the "best costumes". Poor other children who actually worked hard on their costumes, really.

_One down, eleven to go, _Michelangelo thought as he marked another day on calendar. He gave a sad sigh, having to wait another year for probably the best holiday ever simply sucked. It was unfair; he and his brothers had saved whole city for more than ten times in only past two months. They were supposed to get sacks of candy _every day,_ not once a year!

"What's the matter, Mikey?"

Michelangelo turned to his brother Donatello who was renewing the wet towel on Leonardo's forehead. Their 'mighty' leader was dealing with a tough case of flu; apparently he had caught cold from the dingdong snow fight of yesterday. He was the only one who got sick, so his brothers had been mocking him since the evening. But they were slightly annoyed, because Sensei would never understand they were out in daylight and get them grounded (or _undergrounded_) if Leonardo couldn't manage to fall ill. But no matter how much they had fun of or were annoyed at him, Donatello was personally taking care of Leonardo's health and Michelangelo was willing to make curative teas Splinter suggested.

"I just miss Halloween," Michelangelo said with an upset tone.

"Yes, it was fun indeed," Donatello agreed while he examined Leonardo's thermometer. "But there are other fun holidays too, and we don't have to be on holiday to have a good time. You must know it better yourself, since you always claim you are the 'wild one'." Donatello sent a playful smile at his brother.

"But it's not everyday we are allowed to get out of the shadows, or get a free mountain of candy. Actually, we got more candy than we got in fifteen years on one night. Sensei is pretty sensitive about fun food, you know." Michelangelo wrapped his arms around his need as his eyes shone with sorrow of longing.

"I assume 'fun food' means 'junk food' in dumb-shell to average-level-of-intelligence dictionary," Raphael comment as he kept punching the training mummy. "Besides, we told you to save some candy for later. Instead, you ate ours too!"

"Hey, I apologized!" Michelangelo defended himself. "And you didn't have to punch me for it, that unbearable tummy ache plus having to go to bathroom in every three seconds for whole week was a punishment enough!"

His three brothers laughed at the memory. "One would think living in the sewers would make you expect anything that could come out of bathroom, but wow Mikey, you really had broken another record that week!"

"It's funny when you recall it now, but it was pretty disgusting back then," Donatello got his head up from his tablet to express his opinion; he was looking for something on his internet, probably something to help Leo with.

"April had wanted to stay over at one of her friends' place, and even Splinter had let her without any condition." Leonardo's voice was raspy and hoarse due to his sore throat.

"Thanks a lot guys, but that's enough flashback for tonight," Michelangelo replied bitterly. "But I learned my lesson, and I still want candy."

"Well, there is-" Leonardo's sentence was interrupted with a chain of coughs. When he was finished, Donatello handed him a cup of herbal which tea Michelangelo previously made, it was mentioned that it was good for coughs or something like that; Michelangelo was never a good listener.

"Thanks," Leonardo said; apparently tea didn't have an effect on throat, or at least not something fast-effective. "There is Christmas in about three weeks, and you can have as much as candy then."

"Wow Leo, you must be really sick since you started mixing up the holidays," Michelangelo commented. "Christmas is 'gift' holiday. Halloween is 'candy' one. And Easter is 'egg', St. Patrick's is 'beer', and Valentine's is just 'icky'."

"Wouldn't be if I got April by my side…" Donatello said dreamily, his gaze went languishing and his brothers could swear there were little hearts in his orbs.

"Hey Leo, I know you are sick and tired and all, but can you please do a favor and smack his head for me?" Raphael sent a _get-a-hold-of-yourself-man_ glare at his tallest brother.

Leonardo chuckled. "I'd love to Raph, but he has a full bowl of hot tea in his hands and I don't want to risk my skin getting boiled." He was talking faster than usual to get his breath enough. "And you are forgetting one of the biggest trademarks of Christmas, Mikey."

"Oh, yeah? What is it, Leo?" Michelangelo asked curiously.

It was obvious that Leonardo wasn't very fond of talking at that moment due to his aching throat and stuffy sinuses, so he just said two words: "Candy canes."

"But there are _only_ candy canes on X-Mas," Michelangelo whined. "But in Halloween, you can get almost all types of candy: caramel candies, butter candies, fruit candies, mixed-flavored candies, gummy candies, coffee candies, caramel apples… And there was a granny on the end of the street who even gave cotton candy!"

"Then you wouldn't mind if we didn't save any canes for you on Christmas, right, Mikey?" Raphael smirked.

"NO!" Michelangelo exclaimed, enjoying his brothers with his sudden reaction. "Actually, I think candy canes must be on stores right now, and they may get out of stock until Christmas…" Michelangelo tried to sound innocent and not shadow forth his intention, but he sounded _too innocent_ to succeed. "I think we should get some tonight and stock them, you know, for Christmas…" He slowly made his way towards the exit. "And you know what, I don't want any of my precious brothers tire themselves by finding candy canes. I'll do it."

"No, Mikey-" Leonardo started, but thankfully Raphael had seen how he was going to end his sentence and moved fast.

"Oh no you won't, geniusbread," Raphael said as he pulled Michelangelo back by his shoulder. "No cane until Christmas."

"Yeah, we know you will just finish them by yourself before even Christmas arrives, Mikey," Donatello agreed with his arms crossed.

Leonardo nodded with a scowl.

Michelangelo rolled his eyes. "Fine." He pretended to move back towards the living room, but as soon as Raphael let go of him, he grabbed his skateboard with a speed only ninjas can have and ran towards the sewer tunnels.

"MIKEY!"


	3. December 3rd, Mistletoe

Yesterday's sneak out was no good for Michelangelo, unlike what he had expected. He couldn't find any candy canes in the middle of the night (and how was he gonna get them without stealing even if he could find an open store with candies anyways? Sometimes even Michelangelo himself couldn't understand what was he thinking), besides, he had to suffer extra training today. Served him right; he had ran to upside although Splinter strictly told them not to.

Lack of sleep and training in a torture level had got all his muscles hurt, and all he wanted was getting some rest. He could even agree to eat onions as meal for whole week just to lay down a bit – Michelangelo and onions had an old case going on between them. In other words, he hated onions.

No, there wasn't anyone holding him back except his own self. Hyperactivity was a bitch; although he was in a great pain, he didn't feel tired and just because of that, he couldn't stop moving. For the first time in his whole life, he hated his bottomless energy source even more than Raphael could ever do.

"Donnie," he half-begged, half-whined as he shook the brown eyed turtle by his shoulders. "Help me! I can't stop!"

Donatello's scowl didn't make him look happy at all. "Mikey, I need to fix the water heater as soon as I can and Leo is still ill."

"But he is better! He said it by his own and both you and Sensei agreed!"

"Even though he is feeling better than yesterday, he's still sick and he may need someone around." Donatello seemed a little blasé and his brown orbs went towards the water heater for a second.

"Didn't Raph already agreed to help him?" Michelangelo refused to see there was no time for him in his older brother's agenda tonight.

"Yes but I promised him it won't take too long, and you know how large his patience capacity is, especially towards Leo. That doesn't make him the best nurse, you know, Mikey. I'd be happy to accompany you anytime, but I don't have enough time to deal with your nonsense right now."

_I didn't want to use this, but you leave me no choice, _Michelangelo thought. His lower lip slightly popped out while his face started sulking, his sky blue orbs getting bigger and shinier; he was successfully pulling out his famous "puppy face" which no brother of his could resist. A few amount of tears would work for him even better, but he wasn't _that_ low.

Donatello sighed helplessly. "I promise I'll help you with whatever you want once I'm finished with the heater, alright? Why don't you go hang with April until then?"

Knowing it was the best he could get, Michelangelo let go of the other mutant. "Alright," he said with a normal tone which usually meant dejection when it was the youngest brother. But as soon as he stepped outside of the lab, his energy curse hit all over again and he found himself calling out "April!" as cheerfully as usual.

(…)

"I don't get it, April," Michelangelo said. "How is walking going to help me? It's _boring._"

"Boring? Don't you always skate here?" April asked curiously as the duo slowly walked in sewer tunnels.

"_Skate_, O'Neil, not _walk_. Walking is boring, it's way too slow." Michelangelo had asked help from April this time and she had suggested to spend his energy, after all, it was the best way to get rid of it in her opinion. "Boredom hurts more than muscles, and slowness feels like I'm storing up even more energy instead of spending it." Now he was clearly complaining.

"I thought you said moving hurt. Wouldn't moving fast make it worse?"

"Woah, you are even worse listener than I am. I just said boredom hurts- Hey, what's that thing?" Suddenly Michelangelo's voice went from lazy to excited, making the human slightly jump. He jumped through some kind of broken fence to approach the thing that caught his attention.

As April narrowed her eyes to recognize what he was holding, Michelangelo examined the thing by hanging it before his eyes. It was green, and two leaves had made a wreath around two tiny orbs on two smaller leaves. It looked familiar, but he just couldn't name it.

"Hey April," he called. "What is this?"

"I don't know; it's too small to recognize from here."

Michelangelo turned back to his human friend's side, handing her the green object. April seemed to know what it was as soon as it was in her clear sight.

"It's mistletoe!" she said. "Don't you know what a mistletoe is, Mikey?"

"Oh, right!" Michelangelo slapped his forehead. "I know what it is; I had seen it on TV before. It's a Christmas thing!"

"Yes, and it's used-"

"I know what it does, April. I'm not that dumb. Come on; let's go back to the lair!"

(…)

Michelangelo slightly entered to the lair with the mistletoe pinned to the end of a stick. All his brothers were on the sofa, watching a baseball game together. Master Splinter was on the other corner of the room, and Leonardo wasn't lying down anymore; although he still had his blanked wrapped around his body as he sat. Michelangelo was planning to sneak up to them, but his strategy was ruined as soon as April followed him casually. "Hi, guys."

Three heads turned towards them. "Hi, April," Donatello said rather cheerfully and Leonardo raised his hand in a welcoming gesture – he still didn't prefer to talk. After that, attention was towards the TV again, including April this time.

Michelangelo puffed, but he still held the stick in his hand. He slowly tip-toed towards his brothers –yes, he could move unnoticed; he could be hyperactivity-cursed but he was still a _ninja_- and suddenly dangled the mistletoe between Raphael and Donatello.

It escalated rather quickly.

Two brothers jumped almost three feet high in their seats with panic as the sick third watched the green object with surprised eyes. April didn't look so neutral either, and even Master Splinter was eying his sons curiously.

"What the shell, Mikey?!" Donatello exclaimed annoyed.

"Mikey! What are you _not_ thinking again?" Raphael's furious comment was almost simultaneous with Donatello's.

The said two brothers' faces were reflecting pure horror. "Why would you even want this?" Donatello added.

"Want what? My brothers hugging?" Michelangelo shrugged. "Hugging all the time is kinda lame, but doing it once in a while wouldn't hurt."

Others were confused now. "What do you mean, dumbshell?" Raphael asked.

Michelangelo didn't really understand all these reactions pointed towards him. "Isn't this what mistletoe makes people do? Hugging?"

Donatello facepalmed with a really loud smack and Raphael decided to smack Michelangelo's head instead. Leonardo and April rolled their eyes towards each other in _I-can't-believe-this-guy_ manner.

"No, it isn't, idiot!" Raphael threw a cushion at him.

"Really? Then what does it do?" It was now Michelangelo's turn to be confused.

"No, Mikey…" April said with a patient tone. "It makes people _kiss._"

Michelangelo pulled the mistletoe back as if it was attacked by poisonous snakes out of sudden. "OH! Yes, of course, I knew I was remembering something wrong!" He scratched his neck sheepishly. "Hehe, sorry, my bad. In that case, it would be pretty disgusting."

"You think?" Raphael asked sarcastically.

Unfortunately, Michelangelo came up with a different not-so-brilliant idea this time. April was standing right behind the sofa, so it wasn't hard to dangle the mistletoe between her and Donatello this time. He slowly raised the stick up playfully.

April recoiled while Donatello's green face got slightly darker – which meant, to Michelangelo's surprise, he was _actually blushing_. "MIKEY!" he yelled, ready to tangle his brother down.

Michelangelo pulled the mistletoe back again with a grin. "Chill, Donnie. I was just kidding."

"I'll show you joking-" Donatello lunged towards him; Michelangelo thought he reminded of Raphael at that moment. Wow, his joke must have been really effective.

"Calm down, Donnie," April chuckled as she put her hand on Donatello's shoulder. "He was just kidding. Even he isn't insane enough to think we would _ever_ actually kiss."

Donatello's shoulders fell under her grip while his brothers exchanged worried glares. Suddenly, atmosphere in the living room was awkward. "Yeah… right…" He tried to laugh, but even Michelangelo thought it was pathetic. "I think I forgot something to do in the lab… So I gotta… Sorry!" With that, the tall mutant made his way to lab – if he walked faster it could be considered as running.

April was confused. "What just happened?"

Leonardo gave a sigh. "You didn't have to say 'ever'..." His voice was still hoarse, but it was better compared to yesterday.

Michelangelo thought Leonardo had a point; the sentence wasn't bad at all without that word. "Just let him be, April." He tried to assure her, but he wasn't used to this stuff. "He'll come around. Actually, you didn't do anything wrong, it's just that…" He tried to come up with something, but it wasn't easy and thankfully, Raphael did it instead.

"It's just that he is sensitive about a talk we had earlier and you reminded him of it." Michelangelo had no idea what that talk could be even if it existed, but he didn't think Raphael had either. "He's all guffy about something even he thinks it's stupid. You can say it's temporary, you know he isn't usually like this."

_Actually, he is when it comes to her_; but Michelangelo wasn't gonna say it out loud. No matter how obvious it was, he wasn't going to give away his brother's secret.

He secretly sent a sad glare to the lab's closed door and sighed. He liked mocking Donatello for his impossible crush; but even he wished his brother could just let it go.

* * *

**Actually, the author doesn't ship Aprillo in the slightest bit. She's just mentioning it because it's in-character, unignorable, canon and Casey hasn't appeared yet.**

**I can assure you that in none of my stories April will ever respond to Don's feelings. I love her, but... It just doesn't work out, you know.**


	4. December 4th, Scarves

_**Of course**_** I didn't give up on this challenge! I _never_ give up. I didn't impede writing either, shell no, I kept writing daily. But I write these on notebooks, and I hadn't typed them from there to PC yet. So, have a 9 chapters of update.**

**I am especially curious about your reaction to the 9th prompt - Stars. I might be the only one who didn't write it in an optimistic manner.**

**Wait, you're actually reading this? I mean, both my note _and_ my fanfictions which I can't write in-character enough because of the time limit? Guys, I fucking love you. I really do.**

* * *

"Are you sure you're okay, Leo?" Donatello asked for the one-hundred-twenty-fourth time that day. He and Leonardo stood in the dojo across each other, waiting their sensei to come before they started sparring few minutes later.

"For the last time Donnie, _I am._" Leonardo's voice was no longer hoarse, but it was still different from usual. "And if you won't stop asking that, I will show you exactly how fine I am."

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Hard to tell when it's you or Mikey. Mikey pretends he's sick when he isn't and you pretend you aren't sick when you are."

"I don't pre-"

"Don't make me remind you Wednesday-the-Fourteenth accident, Leo."

Leonardo sighed. "Fine, I sometimes do it for the sake of not losing my shape. A few days without training don't make anything good to a ninja."

Donatello narrowed his eyes. "Exactly."

"But this time, I am telling the truth. _I'm fine._ Just a few coughs sometimes, but that's all it has left." The no longer sick turtle winked at his brother. "I was taken good care of."

Donatello sent him a playful grin. "Yeah, I heard your doctor is pretty good at what he's doing."

"Careful, Donnie, your modesty bar is on such high levels that it may accidentally stick out people's eyes." Leonardo grinned as well; he knew the only thing Donatello actually bragged about was his intelligence and even that wasn't so often, this was just a beit for a brotherly tease.

Suddenly, dojo's door was slid aside, revealing a mutant rat behind it. Four turtles instantly bowed to their sensei, waiting for the word "Hajime" to leave his mouth.

Which wasn't going to come out just yet.

Without looking away, Splinter slowly walked to his cushion, leaning on his cane – but like always, this was only assisting his wise and confident attitude rather than ruining it.

"My sons," he started. "Drop your weapons."

"What?" Michelangelo asked, confused. "Then what are we going to fight with, fists and kicks?"

"Works for me," Raphael said rather too much happily as he punched his left palm and stepped towards the shortest turtle.

"No, Raphael." His father sent him a glare that told him to be patient. "You all will fight with different weapons other than your preferred ones. You may lose them in a battle and have to use completely different one. If you show any less performance without your weapons, I'm afraid that could be deathly."

As soon as Splinter completed his sentence, the brothers rushed towards the weapon section of the dojo. Raphael took a pair of tonfas and Leonardo could easily see why; the way Raphael used tonfa had only a few differences from how he fought bare-handed and he felt better with two-parted weapons. Michelangelo picked a three-section staff, which surprised Leonardo because he would think his youngest brother would go with something like axe-flail mace, considering how it worked similar to his secondary weapon kusarigama. Not that Leonardo wasn't happy that the freckled turtle went out of his way; working with different weapon of course would improve his skills.

Without paying too much attention to originality, Leonardo grabbed Donatello's bo staff. Weapons without blades were sometimes a little of a problem for Leonardo, and he wanted to fix it; so he wasn't going to use the staff as naginata. Besides, fighting against his own primary weapon would be a good practice for the genius as well.

Donatello was having a hard time picking his weapon though. Startling Leonardo, he suddenly turned on his wheels to rush towards an object on the floor. It was a scarf, probably one of cloths the turtles used to disguise as human. It wasn't so surprising when he picked it up, but then he made his way to his previous spot with the scarf in his hand.

His brothers were confused, but Leonardo also felt a slight anger on his temples. "I told you I am okay, Donnie. And you know I hate it when someone takes easy on me," he said sternly as he took position across the brown eyed turtle.

"I am not going easy on you," Donatello stated as he bowed a bit. "Onegaishimasu."

Leonardo bowed to him as well, and with that, the fight started.

Leonardo flipped the staff in his hand as he examined his opponent to spot a weakness. Donatello had wrapped one of the ends of the scarf around his left hand while he pulled the other one with his right. Leonardo narrowed his eyes before he attacked Donatello's left side, but the brother in question wasn't slow at all.

Feeling the adrenalin climbing up his veins that was stuck in his nerves for whole two days, Leonardo automatically moved aside to get across his brother again. After half a circle around each other, the older one directly attacked the younger one's head with the staff. The weaponeer blocked it by stretching the scarf above his head, but due to the flexible fabric of the cloth, he wouldn't be able to block it for more than two seconds and he was aware of that. He sneaked out of under the scarf with a quick turn, having Leonardo to pull the staff back.

The leader was confused. Scarf was far from being useful or being a weapon, therefore it was no useful weapon, and Donatello's movements to balance this fact were only proving it. Why did his brother keep using the scarf while he could do better with his bare hands? Of course, he wasn't going to stop and ask, his training was his priority. Leonardo started flipping the staff fast, attempting to use it to break Donatello's balance by hitting a supporting spot on his body, like his knees.

But suddenly, his staff was blocked by the scarf once again, in a totally different way though. Donatello had used the scarf like a whip; the fabric had automatically wrapped itself around the staff after Donatello gave it enough angular momentum. With a strong pull, the staff was in his original owner's hands now; although Leonardo was the best at ninjitsu amongst his brothers, that didn't make them any worse. Donatello tackled him to the ground with placing the staff on Leonardo's throat, pressing his legs with knees not to let him move them.

"Guess that makes me win," Donatello grinned cheerfully.

Leonardo frowned, but with a sigh, he smiled and gave in. "Yes, Donnie, you win."

"Our great and mighty leader is beaten by a scarf." The sarcasm Raphael's voice reflected could be considered as a gem with such purity. "Wow, what a hero."

Apparently, he and Michelangelo were done with their spar; and it wasn't hard to tell who won since Raphael's mood wasn't any worse than usual.

Michelangelo punched the air excitedly. "Crack that scarf, Donnie!" he cheered.

Leonardo rolled his eyes. "What can I do if my opponent is really smart?" he said, winking at Donatello as the said turtle grinned happily as return. "But I learned my lesson. Never underestimate your rival's weapon… or clothing."

Master Splinter came from behind Raphael and Michelangelo with a small smile of approval on his face. "Donatello, I appreciate your skill on turning an everyday object into a weapon. Well done; this will help you in your fights when you use or not be able to use your own weapon. Leonardo, I know you learned your lesson, but I will repeat it for your brothers; my sons, never underestimate one's weapon, no matter they are an ally or an adversary. Michelangelo, you rely on your speed too much; you will study on your concentration with me a few hours more. Rest of you can be dismissed."

With simultaneous bows, older three brothers made their way to the exit of the dojo. Leonardo felt a heavy existence on his right shoulder which Raphael just happened to put his elbow on with a smug face.

"So, Leo… Scarves, huh?"

Leonardo growled; he could have accepted losing, but he was never okay with it. "Shut up, Raph."

Donatello smirked at his oldest brother. "Come on, Raph. He lost because _he was sick._"

"I am _not sick._" Leonardo's voice went a little bit louder, but Donatello was already in his lab.


	5. December 5th, Christmas Tree

April sighed as she walked on the streets from school to the closest manhole to the turtle lair. In daytime, she preferred using the sewers as rare as possible, after all, they stunk and April wasn't used to it yet – the lair smelt a lot better, Splinter had said he hid cherry blossom leaves in some spots to explain the Asian scent of the rooms once. Besides, she was a normal human being –at least she _seemed_ normal-, therefore she didn't need to be afraid of being spotted unlike her extraordinary friends.

December hated being ignored, and did its best to be noticed. After the snow on the first day of the month, the weather got no warmer. Although it didn't snow today, run of dry weather meant a colder New York due to obvious chemical rules and April had to wrap every bit of her body with her coat. Thankfully, Donatello had modified this coat by adding some matters April couldn't name so it would isolate her metabolism perfectly; she didn't feel even a slightest cold where the coat covered her skin.

Christmas was soon, and stores kept reminding this fact to the citizens of Manhattan. There were special Christmas 'sales' in shops, and every single showcase was decorated with Christmas themes; she even saw pharmacies with tiny Santa figures placed somewhere behind their shopwindows. It was easy to focus on Christmas plans she had in mind with all those reminders surrounding her. She was thinking of a surprise party for her favorite terrapins, and she was especially eager to see the pure happiness on the turtle who expressed it the best and always wore an orange clad.

April giggled to herself when she imagined Michelangelo's expression. Experiencing human activities always excited the teenage turtle, in a way which April thought it was cute – this usually pissed the said turtle off, making him claim that he was 'cool', not 'cute', and Donatello would put on a sour face for some unknown reason.

She didn't expect them to have had a Christmas party before, and she was going to make it a perfect first. She even knew exactly what to get to each of them; all she needed was some more money but nothing she couldn't get within next week. With no negative concerns in her mind, she could easily think about the details.

For example, the tree. There was no perfect Christmas without a tree. She knew where his father usually got the tree every year since they always got it together, although it was going to pain her heart to do it without her father – but it was nothing she wasn't used to living with so far. She already knew how she was going to decorate it. Besides of usual Christmas figures, she was going to hang little turtle and rat figures as well. There was going to be a rat figure hang after every four turtle figures.

There was no place or need for a fireplace in the lair, so there wasn't one; but maybe Donatello could do something like hologram about it. She wasn't sure if that was possible, but who knew what was the genius capable of? If he could manage paint a digital fireplace, they could hang six socks above it for each individual of the lair's population. Finding a classic, brown, comfy armchair was always possible too.

April O'Neil was determined to let the teenage ninjas have a classic, perfect Christmas this year.


	6. December 6th, Eggnog

"What do you mean, you always celebrate Christmas?!"

Leonardo couldn't understand what was the big deal. What, mutated turtles couldn't celebrate Christmas? It was forbidden to go up there before they were 15, but there was nothing about having fun in unwritten-rules-for-mutant-ninja-kids list. He exactly told these to the redheaded female, expecting her to clarify why she had thought otherwise.

Apparently, she didn't know either. "I just… assumed. I mean, you said you never had celebrated Halloween before, and I thought…"

"…it was the same for all holidays, right?" Leonardo completed her sentence.

April slightly nodded.

"But April, traditional way to celebrate Halloween includes going up there. There is nothing makes going up necessary in Christmas."

"I had never thought of the fireplace hologram though. I think I could make it work," Donatello said from across the room, the weapon section of the dojo. He and Leonardo was in for some spar for training, at least what they thought they were before they noticed April and Splinter talking about Christmas.

No one showed that they heard the tall turtle. "I am aware of natural childhood instincts to play, and I tried to make my sons enjoy this unregainable term of their lives as much as I could," Splinter explained.

April sighed. "Fine. But at least let me organize Christmas this year… please?" She added not to sound rude.

"Actually, I said I could make the firepla-" The mace he was trying to pull suddenly defeated frictional force and fell on Donatello's head, causing him to lose his balance. Leonardo's eyes grew wider, but he was relieved as soon as he realized it was just the grip that hit his brother's head. That had got to hurt, but nothing that would create a huge damage.

Poor turtle still couldn't get any reaction though.

"I see no problem with that," Splinter replied April.

Suddenly, Leonardo came up with something. "I was thinking," he started. "Now that we can go up there, we can get actual gifts for each other."

"That would be _awesome_!" Leonardo jumped in his seat when he heard Michelangelo's voice behind him out of blue. Even his usually loud brother was a ninja, and he had his moments to prove it.

"Wait, I thought you guys liked my gifts," Donatello handed Leonardo the mace before he sat beside April; a slight hurt could be heard in his voice.

"Are you kidding? Your gifts are always cool, Donnie!" Michelangelo commented energetically and took a seat beside Donatello who was sitting across Leonardo.

"Mikey's right Don, you've always had great gifts for us," Leonardo supported the hyper teenage. Donatello had always been a mechanical genius, and his gifts were what a kid would simply love. Michelangelo's first portative game console and Raphael's first –and last, since he managed to break it in two days- digital sandbag could be exampled from his creations. "And Sensei was able to collect good stuff from topside. It's the rest of us; we aren't really good with creating gifts… but you know it the best, especially after that jelly fiasco." Leonardo grinned sheepishly; he was still ashamed for the accident he created two years ago.

"Well, those blankets Mikey knit for our seventh mutation day…" Donatello reminded. They were Michelangelo's first handcrafts, and they liked them so much that…

Leonardo smiled half-playfully, half- emotionally and pointed at his clad. "You mean, these?"

This was the brothers' little secret; they couldn't outgrow their "blankies" even though they only got them in their late childhood. So they were keeping them as ninja masks, but no one needed to know adult turtles who kick shells carry their blankies around everywhere, right?

"What do you mean?" April was confused.

"Nothing," three brothers chorused.

Leonardo had to think of something before April could ask further questions; it was obvious that their 'nothing' wasn't convincing at all, and instantly examining the carpets wasn't helping it. Going back to Christmas subject appeared to be a good option.

"I can't wait to see how you will organize the party, April, but we Hamatos have our Christmas traditions too."

April raised an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Well, we have simple details that are not necessarily count them all. But for example, Sensei never impedes his sleeptime, and Christmas isn't one of the occasions. We are free the next day after Christmas, so after Sensei leaves to sleep, we have our own Christmas time and things to do in it as brothers, like Christmas version of Ninja Tag." Seeing the look from April, Leonardo explained the game. "We fill each other's stockings with small, unimportant but fun stuff, such as candies or marbles, for example. Then everyone gets their stocking and we hang them to our shells. Then we start hunting each other; trying to get others' stockings while protecting ours. The one who loses his sock is eliminated, and the one who has all four stocking wins."

"And we have movie hours. We pick a horror movie, prepare eggnogs in small shot cups. Everytime main characters do something overly stupid, but cliché; such as stopping and screaming instead of running; we sip a shot," Donatello added.

"Drinking game, huh? It sounds fun, but aren't they usually played with alcohol drinks? You know, that's why parents don't want their teen kids to play it?"

"Oh, that's another tradition. Mikey always-" Leonardo's sentence was cut when he realized his brothers were shaking their heads like crazy, reminding him of Splinter's existence. "You know what, April…" He chuckled nervously. "After Donatello and I are done with exercising, come to us, and say 'Mikey', 'eggnog', and Raphael's pet tortoise' name. I'll tell you something about it."


	7. December 7th, Family

Michelangelo had a phobia.

Actually, he had more than one phobia, but this was the strongest one. Maybe could get over the others someday, but not this.

After their fifteenth mutation day, he had been seeing nightmares for a while. They were about his family falling apart over a fight, and although bad dreams didn't last longer than a week, they were so realistic that Michelangelo considered them as possibilities, and eventually found himself phobic.

For some reason, in those nightmares, it was always Leonardo and Raphael who fought. That's why Michelangelo couldn't help his shiver right now. The older brothers' arguments were too often to be actually afraid of, but this one was no argument. It had been lasting for almost three hours now, and the fear of the images from the nightmares hit Michelangelo from inside. Hard. Donatello was in his lab, April was at school, Splinter was meditating; therefore there was no one to comfort him before he snapped.

He really was afraid of the family tearing apart, and fear could make two things: tears of sadness or flames of anger. Michelangelo was usually too positive to be angry or to cry, so he usually just chickened out when he was scared.

But phobia was stronger than fear.

He finally snapped.

Throwing the remote aside, he got up on the sofa and screamed "ENOUGH!"

Oldest two turtles suddenly went from angry to shocked, turning their heads to Michelangelo's direction. Even Donatello had opened his door to slide himself out of the lab to see what was going on to make his careless brother scream, he didn't have such a neutral face either.

"_'You know the worst, I know the best, you aren't my boss, I am your leader'_… All you two know doing is just _fighting_!" Michelangelo was still shouting. "And it's making me _sick_!"

"Mikey, we were just argu-" Leonardo started, but he was cut by an angry Michelangelo.

"Don't lie to me, Leo!" He exclaimed. "Believe it or not, I am not as stupid as you think. I am younger than you just by a few hours, and I know the difference between arguing and fighting just fine!" Although he had more to say, Michelangelo couldn't keep this going any longer; screaming and scolding wasn't something he did before, and he just wanted to be away from them rather than talking to them. He rushed towards the exit, he needed to get out. "I hate you both," he said with an emotionless, harsh tone before he jumped off the toll bars.

"Mikey-" Leonardo tried to follow him, but he was stopped by Donatello.

"Give him an hour or so, Leo…" Michelangelo heard Donatello say, but he couldn't hear the rest of the sentence after he grabbed his skateboard and turned from a corner.

As soon as he got out of sight, he ran as fast as he could, trying to get rid of the memories from his nightmares.

(…)

He would prefer to be topside, but it was still daytime. So Michelangelo just laid under a manhole which allowed some sunlight to pass through its holes, regretting that he forgot taking T-Podv2 with him.

He had been skating and he had lost track of time. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he left the lair, but whether it was long or not, he didn't want to go back. Not yet.

No, he wasn't mad. Not anymore. What he needed to calm down was his phobia. He feared that Leonardo and Raphael had continued fighting, and he had only poured salt on open wound by snapping like that. Michelangelo even hoped he would find the TV gone when he was back to the lair, it was better than finding a brother gone.

He shivered as he remembered one of the nightmares. Leonardo had gone to somewhere in Central America, refusing to interact with his brothers in New York. Raphael had founded a strong gang on streets; a weird type of gang which worked to stop other gangs committing crimes, but still a psychopath gang that is completely irrelevant from other turtles. Donatello didn't care about anything else besides the huge laboratory he directed, and Michelangelo had become "Booyakasha Bob" to clown around in children's parties. The team was apart because Leonardo and Raphael were blaming each other for Master Splinter's death. Every single detail was terrifying, and it had felt so realistic that he woke up sobbing – not something he had done since he was nine. He had wanted to go to one of his brothers, but he didn't want to be mocked for being a 'crybaby'. So he had just kept staring at a family photo as he waited for his tears to dry out, trying to think the photo as the proof that it wasn't real but a nightmare, and the nightmare was never going to come true.

It was when Michelangelo became phobic.

"Mikey?"

Michelangelo reflexively stood up and grabbed his nunchakus; but after he realized the voice belonged to his oldest brother, he put them back on his belt. He sat down, not bothering to reply. After all, his brothers had already spotted him anyways.

"What were you thinking, nutshell?" Raphael sounded angry, but not angrier than usual. "We spent an hour looking for you; we were worried out of our shells."

Leonardo put a hand on Raphael's shoulder, stopping him. "What's going on, Mikey?" He said softly. "It's not like it was the first time Raph and I were arguing. What's the matter?"

"I know the difference between argument and fight, Leo," Michelangelo repeated his words from the lair, but he was calmer than that now. "I enjoy your arguments, I really do. Angry Raphie is funny, and it feels like something real brothers do."

"I'll show you funny-" Raphael started as he lunged towards Michelangelo, but he was stopped by Donatello this time.

"But after he passed an hour, it was no longer argument, dudes. You were fighting, and the more cartoons passed, the more I feared it was going to be permanent..." Michelangelo sighed sadly. "…and our family was going to fall apart."

"Mikey, I'm sorry to say this, but that's just _ridiculous_."

"Donnie got a point. Some volume up isn't enough for me to let you shellheads go."

"You don't get it, Raph… I… I saw this was going to happen."

"Saw?" Leonardo seemed confused, as well as his brothers.

"In my… nightmares. Not just one, I kept seeing them for over a week. They were different… but they were same, too. Details were different all the time, but it was always Leo and Raph who fought. Sensei would die, you two would fight, and booyakasha, everyone was everywhere except each other's side. No turtle cared about another. No turtle but me." Michelangelo's voice slightly trembled in the last sentence, and he hid his face on his knees.

"Mike… They were just _nightmares_."

"I know Leo, but they felt so real. Once I even thought I was dreaming when I was actually awake, and the nightmare I saw was my real life. Since then, everytime you and Raph fight, and I don't mean argue, I… get… maybe a little bit scared."

Three older brothers exchanged glares, before they all started laughing.

"Wait- Hey! Don't laugh!" Michelangelo exclaimed with his arms moving nonsense. "I am being all serious here, dudes! How many times you've seen me actually serious?"

"Mikey…" Donatello cleared a tear from his eye. "I know how you're feeling, and that's completely normal, but… You know it's not likely, right?"

"Fine, we were fighting, so what?" Raphael rolled his eyes, grinning. "But that's all. Unless Leo stabs us on our shells, like he had to me on our fifteenth mutation day, I won't leave that bastard behind no matter how many times or how long we fight."

Leonardo smirked at Raphael. "I can say the same about Raph. We are brothers, and will be, no matter what."

Michelangelo chuckled. Now he was feeling stupid for getting scared that much for something that wasn't even possible. Their brotherhood was stronger than that, and knowing this, the phobia was washed away without any effort of Michelangelo's.


	8. December 8th, Presents

April was disgusted by herself. She kept reminding herself that she wasn't doing this willingly, but the fact that she was even supposed to keep ignoring _him_, let alone talking to him.

She had to. She just _had to,_ because she was too perfectionist for her own good.

"Come on Mark," she tried to convince him. "Just name a price."

"I already did it, baby." April couldn't decide what to throw up for; because he called her 'baby', or because she was desperately _begging_ him.

Mark Wiggins was handsome. She wasn't going to deny that. But she would prefer dating _a turtle_ rather than dating him, and considering she had four of them as a family, this statement would explain a lot. Half of the girls in her school would die to go out with this egomaniac (which proved April that she was surrounded by a ladies' room of idiots), but no teenager hormone was enough for her to change her mind. He could have abs, he could have a perfect tanned skin, his hair could be the best blond you could see; but his showoff habits, him thinking he had all the rights to get what he wanted, I'm-always-the-center-of-the-attention attitude made April ignore these facts easily.

Her turtles might not be so modest either, but at least they had every right for that.

For the sake of Leonardo's Christmas gift, she actually had to ask Mark-the-Dork a favor. She was planning to get the fanboy a limited piece of the series, Captain Ryan's Underwater Uniform; but all sites on Earth had run out of it. Nowhere in NYC seemed to have it either, and when she was out of hope, she had learned Mark had one and was no longer a Space Heroes fan. Shortly, her last chance.

The price was high though. Not for her wallet, but for her pride.

He had asked her one date for the uniform. And she was _not_ going to accept it.

But being a perfectionist, she had to get that suit. She wasn't usually this perfectionist, but things would change when she actually cared _and _was excited for something. She had been planning Christmas for four days now, and this amount of time of needed a perfect result. If Leonardo's gift was less perfect than others', it would be a disaster. At least in her mind.

She sighed; she had been arguing for twenty minutes now and the lunch break was soon to be over. She was giving up. After all, it was just a date, she could just finish it and never see him again, and she would have the perfect gift-

"Fuck off," she said, turning on her heels to go to the cafeteria, leaving the guy alone in the hall with a shocked face.

April was sure that Leonardo wouldn't want a gift that was dirtied with her broken dignity. Even if the gift in question was Captain Ryan's rare Underwater Uniform.


	9. December 9th, Stars

Raphael hated a lot of things.

He hated Canadian, female-like pop singers who thought they were singing.

He hated those terrible sequels which completely ruined the original's cool.

He hated salads which wouldn't even fill 1% of one's stomach.

And he certainly hated being teamed up with his youngest brother.

"Mikey!" he hissed to the shorter turtle. "Which part of 'watch' and 'silently' you don't understand?" He hated waiting instead of attacking, and like the hell exactly doing it wasn't annoying enough, Michelangelo kept shaking his shell right behind his back got on his nerves.

Michelangelo didn't even listen. Raphael doubted he even heard him. He kept synchronizing his body with the loud music coming from his earphones. _Electronic music_, Raphael recognized; he hated electronic music.

He stood up, sending Michelangelo's T-Pod out of his ears, his hand and the rooftop with only one move of his arm.

"Hey!" Michelangelo exclaimed, reaching out for the music player. But it was too late; T-Podv2 was already broken on the ground. "Donnie's never gonna do a v3 again!"

Raphael smacked him in the head. "Shut up, nutbrain," he hissed again. "If you keep noising, we will be noticed. Seriously, what kind of ninja are you?"

"But Raph," Michelangelo whined. "Watching some stupid teenagers here is _boooring_."

"Oh yeah? Because I was just thinking how much I fucking love leaning over rooftops to watch some _stupid teenagers_ while I had one at home!" Raphael fought the urge to beat him up, right now, on the rooftop. "Can't you be silent for only _half a minute,_ for shell's sake!"

"But you were loud when you threw my T-Pod away too," Michelangelo argued. "Probably that already got us noticed and-"

"GAH!" Raphael cut Michelangelo's sentence. "SHUT U-"

He suddenly took his sais out, and he saw Michelangelo doing the same with his nunchakus for a second. Ninja brothers had sensed a not-so-friendly presence, and they could continue their brother arguments later.

In a short while that was only enough for the brothers to turn around and lean their shells to each other's, the duo was surrounded by a great amount of Foot Ninjas – at least thirty of them. They had surrounded the turtles like a ring of lava which they couldn't just pass through freely.

Raphael narrowed his eyes.

He hated being interrupted.

This was not a fucking movie. Rivals didn't examine each other for five endless minutes. It escalated far more quickly than that; Foot Ninjas ran towards the brothers, and the brothers in question shared their enemies without needing to say anything out loud.

After he was surrounded by half of the Foot Ninjas that came this time, Raphael couldn't see Michelangelo from his spot. And to be honest, he had no time to worry about him. He was in a tough fight, as though as Michelangelo's, and Michelangelo could handle himself just fine. He might have a one track mind, but he was trained to be a ninja since the day he was mutated as well as Raphael after all.

With a back flip, Raphael saved himself from a mace that swung towards him. Some ninja with a trident running to him, but he got rid of the weapon with a kick. Two ninjas, one with a two-bladed staff and other one with a scythe, attacked him at the same time; but he easily dodged them by jumping up with spread legs to avoid the blades and smacking their heads together.

He still didn't have time to make a proper attack. When he took care of one assault, another one came up without the tiniest amount of time between. A sword tried to cut his throat, but shame, Raphael was used to blocking swords so much that he could do that even if he was in a coma. Using the typical function of his sais, he twisted the sword until his enemy had to drop it. Then he sent him off rooftop with a kick; the swordsman hit two more ninjas on the way, causing them to fall too.

But with that amount of rivals around, even half the second that kick took was too long. Two ninjas attacked him with an Asian axe and a nagitama, and although Raphael blocked them both thanks to his well-trained ninja senses, he was defenseless for a third different lunge…

…which didn't hit the turtle it was aimed at.

"MIKEY!" Raphael exclaimed, but before he could help his brother, he had to defeat another ninja.

He hated it when someone tried to sacrifice themself for him.

With the corner of an eye, he saw Michelangelo hardly standing up with his wound bleeding like waterfalls. But to Raphael's appreciation, the youngster still managed to get rid of his attacker's weapon.

He hated sensing the pain that his brother reflected on his face.

There were only a few ninjas left now, and Raphael didn't let Michelangelo have more than one ninja to deal with. Regardless, Michelangelo's wound was so big that it was easy to use it as weak spot. The ninja who was originally about to kill Raphael a minute ago was aware of this fact as well, and he tried finishing Michelangelo off bare-handed.

Raphael tried to reach to him, but his path was blocked by another ninja again. As he was dealing with the second last ninja on their feet, Raphael saw Michelangelo making a quick, hard somersault on his hands to defeat his current enemy with the corner of an eye.

The scream that left Michelangelo's throat told Raphael what that move had actually caused. As he got rid of the last ninja, Michelangelo fell on his shell, pressing his now even more ripped wound.

"Mikey!" Raphael instantly ran to his brother. He took him on his arms; there was no time for a dramatic 'hang on, buddy' bullshit if he really wanted his brother alive, and he had to run thrice faster than his best before it was too late.

"I see the stars," Michelangelo murmured dreamily as his older brother ran carrying him.

"What the shell are you talking about, Mikes?" Raphael said angrily as he jumped from one roof to another, looking for the closest manhole to their lair. He wanted to avoid using sewers as much as possible; toilet of the city probably wouldn't do goods for Michelangelo's perfectly open wound. "We're living in New York, the capital of light pollution. There are no damn stars in the sky."

"But they are sparkly," Michelangelo murmured again. "It hurts, Raph. I want to sleep, but it hurts so much."

Then it hit Raphael. _Blood loss_. Blood loss caused vision to go darker and see ridiculous, sparkly dots around.

They were the stars.

Michelangelo was dying.

"Don't you dare to sleep, Mikey. Don't sleep. Whatever you do, just _do_ _not_ sleep." Raphael tried to run even faster, his lungs hurt as if they were just stabbed; but he reminded himself that Michelangelo was hurt more. He could see his kidney for shell's sake!

He no longer cared about being spotted. Screw humans. He had no time to moving in the shadows. He jumped to the ground; the manhole was only two blocks away.

His brother in his arms was silent.

He hated being saved.

He hated being scared.

He hated his family getting hurt because of his thoughtless actions.

He hated being about to lose his brother.

And that moment, he certainly hated the stars.


	10. December 10th, Tobogganing

"Is he getting better?" Leonardo asked again.

"For the last time Leo, I DON'T KNOW!" Donatello snapped. He had almost screamed, and he didn't look good at all. His eyes were so red that his irises were practically placed on pink optics. If the bags under his eyes were as heavy as they seemed, it was no surprise that he had taken off his mask which he nearly never untied.

His brothers' status was no better. No one had slept that day – although they slept only for two or three hours a day, they hadn't taken even that. Donatello could be considered as worse than others, because he had been studying on Michelangelo's wound to find a way to heal it without using a tiniest break since last night. He was under pressure, panicked, scared and terrified; and even thought everyone was the same, he had to work in these conditions unlike his brothers.

Leonardo stepped backwards with his hands raised in 'I surrender' gesture. Even if he was annoyed, he must have played understanding leader as he said "Sorry." Well, maybe he had to understand, since Donatello had been asked the same question over eight times within only the past half hour; but Raphael could never be that understanding in this depressive aura of his own, so it was a good thing that it was Leonardo who Donatello snapped at.

He watched his older brother as the said turtle got out of the lab, approaching Raphael who was still on the sofa. Leonardo's eyes were red too, but not as much as Donatello's which Raphael could easily spot even from the living room. He always had sharp eyes, and he didn't really need that to sense Leonardo was going crazy as well.

Himself? In Raphael's opinion, he was _the worst_. After all, he was responsible of the death bed's existence that Michelangelo currently was laying on. His brothers at least didn't bear with the pain of being sacrificed for.

Now that he thought about the fight over and over, he had realized it was _his fault_ that Michelangelo was wounded. The movements replayed in his mind, and he could see the possibilities for smarter moves that he could defend himself with, so Michelangelo wouldn't have to shield himself between Raphael and the Foot Ninja. Unfortunately, the type didn't end there. The visions of Michelangelo trying to keep fighting with the obvious agony he was in, that amount of blood coming from his left side, him ripping his wound further just to defeat his opponent…

Raphael couldn't even pretend that he was still tough. He couldn't bear with those images.

He remembered Michelangelo's reaction to his and Leonardo's fight three days ago. The youngster had admitted that he was afraid of his family breaking when the older trio found him in the sewers. Truth to be told, this was Raphael's worst fear too.

And death was more permanent than fight.

When Raphael brought him to the lair last night, the reactions were given instantly. Leonardo and Donatello were already back from their part of the patrol, and they were chatting with April and Master Splinter. Crashing some of the toll bars with a kick, Raphael had made enough noise to get attention; he wasn't able to talk due to his previous endless run that killed his lungs. April had let out a little scream while Leonardo and Donatello had gasped. Even Master Splinter wasn't able to keep his cool as he called out Michelangelo's name.

"Donnie. Lab. Now," Raphael could manage to say, having to breathe even faster after that. Donatello had run to prepare the medical lab while Leonardo took Michelangelo from Raphael. And the torturous wait had begun.

April hadn't gone to school, waiting nervously for a progress in Michelangelo's condition as well. When Splinter told her she didn't have to wait, after all, there was nothing anyone but Donatello could do; she had said she wouldn't be able to focus with Michelangelo in her mind. Besides, she cared about him more than some stupid classes that wouldn't kill her to miss one or two of them just for once.

"Wanna go for a run around sewers, Raph? It can help us get… distracted," Leonardo said as he sat beside him.

"I think I ran enough last night," Raphael replied, leaning his head on the sofa and closing his eyes, but not to sleep or rest. He just wanted to keep looking calmer, at least compared to what he was actually feeling inside.

There was a distressing pause for a while. It wasn't hard to tell that they were both thinking about the same turtle. Leonardo had given up on telling Raphael not to blame himself a few hours ago, because he could comprehend that it was no use. But he was still trying to reduce his anger to himself, and this was probably where the running idea had come from.

"He's not gonna die," Raphael finally said, eyes still closed.

"Of course he won't! Wha- Why would you even think that?" Leonardo was apparently trying to sound surprised as if he wasn't thinking about the same possibility; but even if his face didn't, his slight stammering would give him away.

"Oh come on, otaku boy. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Don't pretend as if you weren't thinking that he could die. We are all thinking it. That freak is _really_ dying in that room." He pointed at the lab. "But I know that little bugger. He will not go to the end of the stick."

"How are you so sure of that? It's not like it's his choice."

Raphael opened his eyes with a grin. "He would find a way to turn it into his choice; the guy is stubborn enough when he wants to. Especially when there is that pizza party we have been planning to have this Saturday on those mountains. Mikey would _never_ leave without tobogganing at least once in his life."

As soon as he finished his last sentence, Raphael stood up, making his way to the medical lab. Leonardo followed, intending to stop him.

"Raph, I don't think it's a good idea."

"Why is that?" Raphael said casually as he approached the lab.

"Because Do-"

Leonardo got hit by a truck that could be named as 'a really excited Donnie'. The oldest turtle rubbed his head with pain, not being able to get up with Donatello laying on him.

Donatello raised his head from Leonardo's plastron happily, apparently he was _too happy_ to get up. "Mikey is waking up! He has overcome the fatal point!"

Leonardo pushed the taller turtle aside, harshly, to get to see his youngest brother. Raphael couldn't help but grin across all his face with the relief he felt under his chest.

"Told ya." He tried to show his grin as a smirk, hoping he had succeeded. "Mikey I know would never miss that party." He followed Leonardo in the lab, feeling Donatello's presence behind his shell.

Michelangelo's eyelids were trembling, and after a short while, they were opened slowly. Sky blue irises scanned his surroundings, not focusing on anything longer than half a second; it was as if he wasn't recognizing anything.

"He's trying to understand where he is," Donatello explained. "Give him a few minutes to get his brain working normally again."

"If we gonna wait for his brain to work, then we'll have to wait 'til forever," Raphael commented. He eyed his little brother, trying to reflect nothing but sarcasm from his eyes as he said "Good morning, nutshell." to a finally conscious Michelangelo.


	11. December 11th, Stockings

"Please, Donnie," Michelangelo begged. "I'm _bored_."

Donatello rubbed his temple. "No, Mikey. You are still injured, and movements you do with your skateboard are likely to open your wound again."

"But I am _the_ Michelangelo!" he argued. "The party dude, the hyper turtle! You can't expect me to stay like… _this_!" Michelangelo pointed at his body which was currently lying on the sofa with least amount of movements.

The older turtle sighed impatiently. "Mikey, you have a three-fingers-deep wound. You need time to completely heal, and if you want to be 'the hyper turtle' as soon as you can again, you must move as seldom as possible."

Michelangelo groaned. No matter what he did, it would take at least _weeks_!

"Then again, maybe if you move slow enough…"

"_Slow_?!" Michelangelo suddenly exclaimed, startling the taller turtle. "It is even worse than not moving at all!"

"Then don't move at all!" Donatello's voice was raised before he took a breath in to calm down. "Maybe we can take a walk in the sewers, without letting you move around your wound too much."

"Come on, Donnie. You don't understand. Walking _isn't _enough. I need speed! I need adrenaline!"

"I don't think I see what the big deal is. I'd think you would see it as an opportunity. You don't have to go training, you don't have to do chores; you can watch TV and play games all night long."

"Yes, but I never wished to be stuck on the sofa! I would prefer if I was at least able to skate." Michelangelo tossed the remote aside which had been in his hand for a while; he was done with watching television anyways.

"Look, how about this," Donatello started with a calmer tone. "I'll take out the sewer slider, and we can be as fast as you wish on it without having you to move too much."

"Do I get to drive?" Michelangelo asked excitedly.

"No," Donatello replied sternly, causing him to pout. "You get way too much excited and lean side to side while driving it. I'll drive."

"But Donnie," Michelangelo whined. "You drive too slowly!"

"_Compared to your monstrous driving_, nutshell. I drive fast enough, but your driving makes even Leo seasick."

Michelangelo tried using his puppy face, but Donatello wasn't going to buy it when it was about his younger brother's health.

"If I promise I will drive as fast as you want?" Donatello tried again.

Michelangelo dropped his gaze away from his brother; he didn't trust Donatello when it was about speed. Actually, he trusted no one but Raph when it was about speed.

"Mikey, you realize that this is the best offer you can take, right?"

The wounded turtle thought about it. Donatello was probably right. Leonardo wouldn't even let him go to the bathroom if it was possible, and Raphael wouldn't want to risk anything after he carried him half-dead to the lair.

"Fine," he gave in with a sigh. At least he was no longer stuck on the sofa.

(…)

The laughter echoed in the sewer tunnels.

"Faster?" Donatello asked, shouting to be heard over the engine that was really loud due to their speed.

"Faster!" Michelangelo screamed happily, throwing his arms in the air.

With a smirk, Donatello depressed the pedal fully, and made a swift maneuver in the next corner. They were almost hitting the wall while doing so, but the danger was the part of the fun anyways. When Donatello succeeded the maneuver, he was celebrated with a brofist by his brother.

Actually, it was pretty surprising that Donatello drove _this fast_. Not that he usually drove slow, heck, it was absolutely the opposite. But for Michelangelo the wild turtle, no one was fast enough. Michelangelo had expected him to drive in a slow pace because of his wound, but Donatello had really kept his promise, and apparently was having as much as Michelangelo was.

But suddenly, after a few miles than that, the engine stopped working. With the remaining amount of kinetic energy, the sewer slider kept getting slower and slower for a while, until it rejected moving any further.

"Donnie," Michelangelo asked slowly, hesitating. "What is going on?"

"Nothing. We are out of fuel." Donatello's voice expressed no emotion.

"NOTHING?! We are at least two hundred miles away from the lair, how are we sup-"

"Calm down, Mikes. I always keep a small can of fuel here, look." He pointed at under glove compartment. "We can go back using it."

Michelangelo sighed with relief.

"It shouldn't take long to refresh the tank. Be patient and don't nag by asking every second if it's done."

Michelangelo puffed. "I'll try."

Donatello got out of the slider with the gasoline can in his hands while Michelangelo looked around, already feeling the boredom all over again. Unfortunately for him, there was nothing but dirty drain water in the sewers. _Nothing at all_ to be distracted wit-

_Wait, what's that?_ His eyes had spotted a clean looking paper pile. He stood up to approach it after he replied Donatello's glare with a slight nod, silently telling him that he wasn't going anywhere.

The object turned out to be a magazine. It must have fallen through the grills, since it was lying in the middle of the tunnel with wrinkled pages.

Michelangelo slowly stooped, trying not to disturb his wound, and took the magazine in his hands. He examined the pitch black cover curiously; what kind of magazine would have a plain cover anyways?

He found out when he opened the first page.

Michelangelo couldn't help but giggle; after all, he was still a teenage, immature boy. Biting his lower lip not to keep chuckling again and again, he flipped through the pages of Playboy Magazine. No, he had no intention on doing anything 'funny', he was just curious and had nothing else to do.

There were _a lot of_ human women in there, and all of them were wearing really small amount of clothing to cover themselves, obviously failing. As a teenager with active hormones, Michelangelo could understand about sexual instincts; but truth to be told, he had no idea why humans found these arousing. After all, looking at a picture of pizza was nowhere near meaning anything unless you ate it for real.

He couldn't hold back a laugh when he saw a brunette with only her underwear, but still wore long socks that covered almost all her legs. Now, what was the point of that? It was a pure conflict, and to be honest, Michelangelo found energetic DJ females hotter than these, and they didn't even need to take their clothes off to make him think so.

"What are you laughing at?" Donatello asked curiously before getting his hands away from the slider.

"Nothing, it's just-" Michelangelo stopped as his face darkened with an evil smirk. He went back beside his brother, hiding the magazine behind his back. "Hey, Donnie ~ " he sung, and as soon as Donatello turned his head towards him, he hung the magazine before his eyes.

"Wha-?!" Donatello jumped almost six feet backwards with a shocked expression, his face was getting a darker shade with the blood rushing towards his cheeks. He breathed rapidly, trying to calm down while Michelangelo leaned against the slider not to fall while laughing his lungs out.

"MIKEY!" Donatello yelled, throwing the magazine away. His face was still dark from embarrassment, and he didn't seem happy at all. "What the shell were you looking at?"

Michelangelo held his plastron; his laughter was still unwilling to decrease. "You should have seen your face! You were like-" His laughter defeated his words.

Donatello growled, getting on the driver seat angrily.

Michelangelo followed him to the slider, still chuckling. "C'mon, Donnie," he managed to say as his brother ran the engine. "We are teenagers. There is nothing to be ashamed of, right?" He grinned.

Donatello rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Mikey," he said his voice still slightly stern. "And on another note, there isn't too much fuel, so we can't go fast if we want to make it to the lair."

That cut Michelangelo's enjoyment out. He groaned before he asked "By the way, Donnie, how come you decided to make all those awesome maneuvers on our way here? I mean, they were awesome and all, but you are extra-picky these days because of this." He pointed at the bandages on his left side.

Donatello shrugged. "I was sure it was fine. I had calculated everything thrice before we left the lair." He got the map of the sewer tunnels out and dropped it to Michelangelo's lap.

Without even bothering to look at the calculations on the map, Michelangelo rolled his eyes and snorted. "Nerd."


	12. December 12th, Chocolate

It was the third day of torture, and Michelangelo almost wanted to kill himself just for some action.

He wasn't allowed to go on patrol tonight. And he probably wasn't gonna be for a while. Damn that stupid wound. Raphael _so_ owned him – but he would never mention it even as a joke, the hot-headed turtle seemed off around his little brother since that night although he always tried to hide it, and it saddened Michelangelo with a slight presence of annoyance.

April pulled a chair beside him. "So, Mikey… what's up?"

"All mutant turtles in New York except for me," Michelangelo answered without raising his head from the kitchen table he had been leaning his forehead on. "Donnie forbid me to go upside for whole week because of this stupid thing; and he said he'll 'think about it' after a week." He had used air quotes. "I am bored, April."

"Yeah, I know, you say that a lot recently. Like, six times an hour at least."

"Because _I am bored_."

"Mikey, do you have any idea how bad you are wounded? By the time Raph brought you back, you were soaking _blood_. Even your shell was broken; I may not be a turtle but I can guess how hard it is to break them. Isn't that why you are wounded this badly in the first place anyways?"

"Why does everyone think I don't know that? I am the one who is hurt with every move that is faster than a snail!" He threw his hands in the air furiously.

"If it's that so, you must be already aware that you shouldn't move fast then."

"BUT I AM BORED!" Michelangelo suddenly got his head up and punched the table with both his fists. The sudden movement in his left side caused a small, but sharp feeling that made him shriek with pain.

"Mikey!" April seemed worried as he reached out to Michelangelo. "Are you okay?"

"Y- Yeah…" Michelangelo managed to say, biting his lower lip. "Apparently my body wants to punish me for punching the innocent table."

April sighed. "If you're so bored, then why don't you get a hobby?"

"I already read all my comic books, there is nothing on TV, and I completed all my video games in last three days… Leo promised that they'd get me some more comics and games, but they are not here yet, obviously. So nuh, that option is out of order, girl."

"Mikey, playing video games or reading comics can't be a hobby. Hobby means doing something productive for fun."

"No offense dudette, but that's funny. 'Productive' and 'fun' can't be used in the same sentence. Wait, but I just used it… Hmm… Then they can't be used in the same sentence unless they are used to say they can't be used in the same sentence."

"Uhm, come again?" But as soon as Michelangelo opened his mouth to talk, April stopped him. "Actually, don't. Back to the topic, being productive can be fun. Look at Donnie; he always builds some strange stuff for fun."

"He is a nerd, April. Nerds have fun with not having fun. I am a cool guy, I need _real_ fun."

"But 'real fun'…" April used air quotes. "…is out of your reach right now, isn't it?"

Michelangelo groaned. He _knew _that. It was why he was sitting in the kitchen without doing anything after all. Why else would someone sit in the kitchen without even eating anyways?

"Look, you were always the one who made your birt- I mean, mutation day cakes, right? And you said you guys never had a real cake before?"

Michelangelo nodded, wondering where she was getting at.

"Then why don't you bake a _real_ cake this time? I'll get the ingredients, there must be at least a shop that is still open topside at this hour; and while I'm there, you look for the recipe on the internet and text me if you want something extra for it. After I'm back, we can bake the cake."

"Sure," Michelangelo replied. Again, he had no better choice.

(…)

"_I win!_" Raphael exclaimed as he entered the lair, running.

"You cheated!" Leonardo jumped through the toll bars, with Donatello following him from behind.

"There was nothing said about slidin-" Raphael cut his sentence to sniff the air. "Hey, what is this?"

His brothers imitated his action. "It's something sweet," Donatello remarked. "But I can't name it."

"It's familiar, but…" Leonardo sniffled again. "All I can understand is that it's something baked."

"Then let's find out!" Raphael rushed to the kitchen, not turning around to see if others were following his action. He pulled the curtain aside, just to find Michelangelo wandering in front of the kitchen counter.

"Oh, hey Mikey." Raphael approached him. He was about to pat his back in a little harsh way like he always did to his little brother, but he pulled back when he remembered about the injury he had caused. "We brought you your games and stuff, they are with Donnie," he said with a lot less cheerful tone.

"Raph, why do you-" Michelangelo started, but he was interrupted by Leonardo who just walked in with Donnie.

"Hey, Mikey. What's this scent coming from?"

"I baked a cake, to surprise you guys!" Michelangelo sounded excited. "Guess the flavor!"

"A cake? Mikey, I don't think my stomach is-"

"Not ready for chocolate, Donnie?" Michelangelo asked cockily.

"CHOCOLATE?!" His brothers exclaimed, rushing beside him.

"Chocolate cake? Like, from _real_ chocolate?"

"Not from _mud_ and worms, right?"

"Is that what's smelling? Because it smells _delicious,_ Mikey!"

Michelangelo chuckled at their excitement. He opened the oven to get the cake out. "It's real chocolate, guys. April got the stuff, and I baked them."

"Whoa…" Older turtles gasped simultaneously. Not only smell, it _looked_ delicious too. All the cake was plastered over with a thick layer of chocolate, and the top was decorated with a shell shaped green frosting.

"It's not only milk chocolate. Well, it is on the cover, but in the cake, I used both milk and white chocolate frosting one on the top of another. _My _idea." Michelangelo beamed, but all attention was on the cake in his hands.

"Great, awesome, cool story bro; but _can we eat it now_?!" Raphael asked impatiently.

"Well, Sensei is still training April in the dojo, but if we make sure we saved slices for them-"

Before Michelangelo could finish talking, the cake was taken away and tortured by three cannibal mutants who didn't even bother to take plates to use.

"This is _awesome_, bro!" Raphael commented eagerly with a full mouth. "I think I am having a 'tastegasm' here."

"I would say that this isn't even a word, but it officially is now…" Donatello took three morsels worth of cake on his fork and stuffed it in his mouth. "…since I can't find a better word to describe this magnificent feelings the cake is causing."

"Mikey…" Leonardo gulped to make room for more cake in his mouth. "You can use this cake to spike the eggnog this Christmas, because I think I got drunk just by eating this."

"Dudes, I wanna taste it too," Michelangelo whined as he tried to reach out for the cake. Splinter and April would be the luckiest creatures alive if they could even see crumbs of this cake if it went on like this only two minutes more.


	13. December 13th, Red, Green & Gold

"Guys…" Donatello groaned with the heavy feeling under his plastron. "We need to do something about…" He hiccupped. "…_this_."

"Yeah, before-" Raphael burped. "Before all our muscles turn into elephant fat."

Leonardo mumbled something, but it wasn't understood due to the carpet he had pressed his face against blocking his voice. Poor guy didn't have enough empty space in his stomach to help him to get up; Donatello knew, because he was exactly in the same condition. Good thing he hadn't ended up facing the floor though.

"What was that, Leo?" Raphael asked.

Leonardo rolled up with a wail; he seemed in a real pain while doing that. "We could have, _should have_ controlled ourselves. We are strong; we should have refused eating more."

"Well, you can start by dropping that donut in your hand," Donatello remarked the conflict between his brother's words and actions.

"_No way_." Leonardo quickly stuffed the donut in his mouth; even though he was gagging due to the windpipe he was blocking, he refused to spill anything from his lips.

Raphael grizzled, probably because talking was really hard to all of them and they wanted to use least amount of words. "_I_ wanted that donut!"

The leader in blue smirked. "It's a little bit late for that."

Not surprisingly due to his always short temper, Raphael lunged at Leonardo. Well, at least he tried. Because of his heavy stomach, even his anger wasn't enough to bring his body to get up; and all he could do was wagging his hands towards Leonardo's direction, trying to strike the older turtle's face with at least one of them. Leonardo accepted declaration of war, and half a minute later, 'oldest' brothers were in a not-so-exciting cat fight with arms lubberly trying to reach and hit each other.

Donatello rolled his eyes, because he was too full to laugh. Actually, if he hadn't been this full, he would be eying his brothers _with_ his last modified video camera. They looked like stupid cheerleaders trying to fight without getting their manicures ruined, and a tape would be _perfect_ to blackmail. Leonardo and Raphael had no idea how lucky they were.

What got three tough dudes in this situation was no poison, no bullet or no trauma. It was their own little brother and his shellshocking cooking skills to blame for their current state of licking the floor clean.

After baking the cake and seeing the reactions to it, Michelangelo had decided that he loved cooking. And being able to do anything else, he had been cooking non-stop. Although he had learned cooking and baking real food only yesterday, he seemed to be talented enough to get his brothers almost rape his masterpieces without he even got a change to get the food out of the stove or the oven. As Michelangelo cooked more, the older trio ate more. As the older trio ate more, Michelangelo cooked more. It was a desperate vicious circle that threatened to destroy their lives, but was still welcomed by the owners of the said lives.

"Bros…" Michelangelo craned out of the kitchen curtain with a grin. "Midday snack is ready!"

More food from heavens was only thing that was exciting enough to make the taller three to get up with a speed befitting to ninjas and rush into the kitchen.

"What the shell?" Raphael didn't sound less confused than his brothers as he looked at the table with absolutely _nothing_ on it. "I can't see something edible around here!"

"Because we are out of all food." Michelangelo opened the fridge that only had two bottles of ketchup and mayonnaise in it. "Someone needs to go upside and get groceries. But too shame, April is at school and you three are hardly moving your fingers." He smirked smugly.

Donatello narrowed his eyes as he got the smallest turtle's plan. "You sneaky little spurious…"

"_Spurious_? Really, Don? Is just saying 'bastard' really that hard?" Raphael wasn't impressed.

"No, Mikey," Leonardo said sternly. "Your injury is still bad, and I don't even mention that it's still daytime."

"Daytime, but _cold_! I can cover all my body and face, and no one will notice!"

"And we don't trust you about how much you'll care about your wound. Without anyone around to control your hyperactivity, you may accidentally reopen it. Besides, maybe lack of food can be good for us after eleven hours of eating." Leonardo suddenly pressed his fingers against his lips as his cheeks swelled; apparently his stomach wanted to let out some of the gas, liquid or solid to make some room for enzymes. He gulped down to send whatever climbed up his throat back to his stomach.

"But Sensei and April need food too! April is probably gonna be back hungry and Sensei hasn't eaten yet."

Donatello groaned. "Fine. Raph and I can do it. We need to move to burn some of the calories so that we can relax a bit."

"Don't bother, guys. I'll do it," Michelangelo tried again.

"No way, dude." Donatello replied the short turtle. "Just list what you need and how much you need, and then we'll go up to get them."

Michelangelo sighed, he was defeated. "Fine." He took a notebook and a pen which had been forgotten on kitchen counter since Donatello decided eating Michelangelo's crafts was more interesting than some equations, and started listing. "By the way," he said while he was still writing, his voice still upset compared to usual. "Can you look for those sparkly-looking cake frostings on your way, in colors of yellow, green and red? Plain ones are fine, but those silvery things aren't sold everywhere."

"Sure, but why do you need those?"

Michelangelo shrugged. "Figured that Christmas snacks would be better if they were colored Christmas-y. Doesn't hurt if we learn where to find them before Christmas arrives."

Raphael glanced at his tallest brother. "Hey Donnie, can you do some sorta potion to burn food thrice faster until Christmas? I don't want to play Ninja Tag by rolling around my shell."


	14. December 14th, Ornaments

"Raph, we need to talk."

Green eyes seemed surprised as they turned to meet his. Michelangelo couldn't blame him, it was a sentence that was restricted to use on cardiac patients. Besides, Michelangelo rarely sounded _really_ serious, like, once in two years or so; which probably would make Raphael get curious.

"Whazzat, Mikes?" Raphael asked, trying to sound more casual than his eyes reflected as he crashed an orb with _Space Heroes _logo on it – guess whose favorite decoration it was.

They were in the sewers, in a tunnel that had a dead end and woods protecting the entrance. The Hamatos had been using there as storage for a long while now. April had asked what kind of ornaments they had for Christmas; her mind was still busy with her 'perfect holiday' plans. Leonardo and Donatello had decided that Michelangelo needed to at least get out of the lair even if they still weren't sure about the topside; after all, he hadn't been to even sewers after the slider trip with Donatello. The boxes of ornaments could be too heavy for Michelangelo to carry with his massive injury, so they had sent Raphael with him to take care of that. Raphael hadn't complained.

Raphael hadn't complained about _anything_ that included Michelangelo since five days ago, and the turtle in orange was sick of it. It just didn't feel like he was talking to Raphael anymore. His older brother pretended as if he was the same, but there _were_ some changes; although Michelangelo couldn't name them one by one, they were kinda obvious. They talked to each other as usual and he didn't hold back his insults for him, but whenever Michelangelo's injury was mentioned or his gaze slipped to his brother's bandages – the latter occurred pretty often – all his muscles got tense in a visual level as the expression in his eyes transformed into something darker, and sadly, he thought he managed hiding it. Raphael moved extra cautious around Michelangelo, considering how short-tempered turtle hated being cautious, it wasn't a small detail. And Michelangelo thought Raphael was having fun with him no more, because he was always nervous whenever the shortest turtle was around. Michelangelo was missing him; and hard to admit, he even missed getting beaten after a prank he pulled. Those hurtful but brotherly punches were fine as long as Raphael was his party bro once again.

"_Get over it._"

"Get over what?"

Michelangelo wanted to scream because of the larger turtle's pretending ignorance. He was never good with serious talking, and Raphael wasn't making it easier. "Get over the… _thing_… that happened last Sunday. You know, the _thingy_ thing."

Raphael suddenly found a tiny Santa figure more interesting than the freckled mutant. "Oh, you mean you getting almost killed because of a stupid lunge I decided to do? Sure." His voice was clear of any emotions, as if it really didn't matter; but how his tone was combined with his words told another story.

"Raph, _stop it_." Michelangelo suddenly dropped the pile of sparkly material in his hands to the floor, managing to create a slight thump. "Is it too hard to think that I make my own decisions and they have nothing to do with you? Because what, I am not the oldest or the smartest out of you guys? I didn't block that attack just to make you think I am a fragile Japanese doll! Well, I am Japanese, but I am not a fragile doll!"

Raphael blinked his eyes slowly in a not-amused manner. "Fragile _Chinese_ doll."

"Exactly Raph, I am not a fragile doll _or_ Chinese, but you didn't have to point it out in the middle of my serious argument."

Raphael facepalmed.

"My point is, why do you go all grumpy grandpa around me, and even think you are good at hiding it? You aren't good at it at all. And I hate you acting the-overprotective-masochistic-dude when you're with me! And I don't always hate stuff, you know."

"What else can I do?" Raphael suddenly snapped and took a abrupt step towards his brother, making him reflexively step back a bit. "_You were dying_, Mikey! I _saw you_ fighting with an impossible amount of bleeding with my eyes. I _felt you_ breathing less and less in my arms. And why was that? Because _I was too fucking stupid!_ I lost so much time back there that _you_ had to _save_ me and take the responsibility of _my_ fault!"

Michelangelo frowned, he was about to repeat that it was his own decision and he couldn't bear seeing one of his brothers' death before his eyes; but he was taken aback when he noticed a small drop of tear in the corner of almond shaped green eyes. "…Raph?"

Raphael furiously cleaned the drop with his finger quickly before he immediately turned away and grabbed a box. "Let's go back," he said sternly and slid his body between the woods without even looking at his younger brother.

Michelangelo wished he hadn't opened his mouth in the first place as he leaned to take the ornaments he dropped before.

* * *

**This one is rushed because I had two exams today. Nailed chemistry, but I screwed in Turkish Literature. Wait, that's not what I was going to say.**

**Oh, and my rush is the reason that the statements are shallow; it isn't why the argument is short. It was supposed to be short. Both are not fond of verbal fights, and Raph would never stay there after accidentally showing a weak spot of him. But it could be a deeper, realistic, emphatizable argument if I didn't rush.**

**Yes, they had to do that argument today, because Michelangelo isn't the most patient turtle on Earth. In other words, the timing was fucked up, and I wasn't really in a mood to write emotional. Sorry'bout that.**


End file.
